


Weakness

by ironicbird



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, No Smut, One Shot, Pining, Slow Build, but they don't realize lol, no beta we die like half of bruce wayne's children, side note: do beta readers even exist because i feel like most fics dont ever have one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicbird/pseuds/ironicbird
Summary: Damian Wayne is a trained fighter, the son of both Batman and Talia al Ghul. He is fierce against his enemies and always prepared for any situation.So, when he starts having strange bouts of weakness around his friend Jon, he does not understand the cause behind it. Why does he seem to keep losing his senses around Jon?He’d better figure it out before it gets himself (or Jon) killed. Weakness is a liability in the kind of life they lead.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 170





	Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 85% of this in literally one night so if there are errors or shitty writing or anything bad…sorry am sleep deprived.

It had started when Damian was sixteen.

He was attending a celebratory event at the Kent residence, honoring Jon’s fourteenth birthday. He had assumed that the event would be a modest affair, such as a simple dinner with Jon and his parents, or at least something more stately than this.

This being a gaggle of barely pubescent teenagers swarming in colorful paper cone hats playing various childish games. It was not a simple meal like Damian had expected, in fact, the only food available was various party snacks and birthday cake laid out on a table with a colorful plastic tablecloth. Jon’s parents had withdrawn to the upper floor within minutes of Damian’s arrival, and had only returned periodically to check on the guests.

Damian was starting to wonder why he had even come. Jon clearly had many friends from his school and the surrounding areas. They all seemed to be having a fantastic time. These children were flocking around Jon like sheep, sharing in Jon’s happy aura as they competed in game after game. Damian had kept mainly to the outside, observing. He was above such childish endeavors. Surely there was no real reason for Damian to be here, or for him to stay. There were better things that he could be doing with his time.

He was considering reasonable excuses for a premature departure. Perhaps he could say it was business. Jon would assume that he meant Robin business and not ask any questions with all of these civilians around. However, it was about 3pm in the afternoon so it would be rare for him to have such urgent Robin business at such a time of the day. It would be suspicious, plus Jon would ask him later what had happened. Perhaps he could say that he received a communication from Grayson that was urgent. But, then he would have to likely give additional qualifying information. Would Richard be willing to fake an injury?

Damian was removed from his ruminations by a loud bout of laughter stemming from the center of the group. He looked up to see Jon, a wide smile plastered on his face. In that moment, time seemed to slow down. Jon was shining, his light infecting everyone in the room. The sunlight streaming through the window gleamed off of his shiny, black hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled with mirth. The party guests flocked around him like he was a star, and they were all planets trapped in his gravitational pull. Damian couldn’t blame them, Jon was radiant.

“D, come join us!” Jon said, making eye contact with Damian and gesturing for him to join the group. Damian melted under his gaze, and against his better judgement, entered the swarm of teens. Jon wasted no time throwing an arm around Damian’s neck, pulling him close as he began explaining the rules of the game to Damian. Damian was barely paying attention, however, his mind focused on one, simple question.

What had possessed him to become so weak around Jon?

* * *

The next time something like that happened wasn’t until about two years later. Robin and Superboy were taking down a group of robots in a park. They had been following the trail of their creator, and Damian took this as a sign that they were getting close. The robots had numbers, but little skill. They were easy to take down, but for every one that was destroyed, two more seemed to appear.

Jon was laughing with glee as he smashed robot after robot. Because they were just robots, he didn’t have to hold back. He had employed his entire arsenal of abilities repeatedly over the course of the long battle. Heat vision, freeze breath, super strength, the works. Piles of robotic parts were building up around him. Of course, Damian had been utilizing everything that he had too, but unlike Jon, he did not have limitless reserves of tricks to use. His tool belt was only so deep, and they could not keep this up forever.

Damian looked around for some sort of command center or signal generator. There had to be something controlling these robots, so if they could manage to cut off the output, the robots would be rendered inert.

The search was hindered by the fact that Damian was still having to put down robot after robot. He had run out of all gadgets that could generate any sort of electricity or electromagnetic pulse to shut them down, so he was reliant on brute strength. Still, whenever Damian had a moment, he was scanning the area for the source of the robots’ commands.

That is what Damian was doing when his eye caught on Jon, who was ripping the head off of a robot as he used his heat vision on another. His mouth was turned upwards in a joyful grin and he looked…magnificent. Jon had been starting to fill out with age. No longer was he the noodle-like boy he had been when he was ten. At sixteen, Jon was really starting to look like a man. The pile of demolished robots strewn around him made him seem like victorious gladiator, the picture of raw strength. The only aspect that seemingly did not fit the picture was his smile and the twinkle in his eyes that spelled out exactly how much Jon was enjoying smashing these robots.

Damian was so distracted by this image, that he did not notice the robot that came up behind him. Before the hero managed to react, the robot brought its metal arm down across the back of Damian’s head, hard. He toppled to the ground, only barely managing to cushion his fall with an arm. The impact still caused him to emit a sharp grunt of pain. The metal men began swarming Damian, landing blow after blow as Damian tried to work himself up to his feet.

“Robin!” Damian heard Jon cry. The next thing he knew, all of the robots that had been swarming him were encased in ice. Damian smashed his way through the frozen metal men until he was once again out in the open.

“You’re welcome,” Jon said with a smirk as he bashed another robot’s head.

“Tt,” Damian said, “I was handling it.”

“Sure you were,” Jon said, sarcastically.

The waves of robots were still spilling out of the woodwork, with no end in sight. They needed to find a way end this, and quickly.

“Superboy, fly up and scan for any sort of signal emitter that could be controlling these robots,” Damian ordered.

Jon threw him a look as if he was concerned about leaving Damian alone, but followed Damian’s instructions anyways. It was only mere seconds later that all of the robots around Damian suddenly collapsed, the life drained out of them.

Damian looked up to see Jon, his red cape billowing behind him as he descended to the ground.

“I found the emitter,” Jon said, grinning.

“I noticed,” Damian replied.

“Ready to go catch our crazy robotics man?” Jon asked, gesturing towards the building that they knew the creator of their assailants to reside in.

Damian nodded, and before he could protest, Jon picked him up and started flying him towards the building. Normally, Damian would object strongly to Jon lifting him without permission, but his mind was too busy reeling from what had happened.

That mistake had been…inexcusable. He never left himself that vulnerable and unaware. Damian had not been caught off guard like that since he had been a child. The League would have punished him dearly for such an error.

What had happened to him? Why had Jon caused such a moment of weakness?

* * *

It happened again a year later. The two of them were sitting on a rooftop in Gotham, enjoying a break from patrol. Well, Damian was on patrol, Jon had crashed the party. Damian silently prayed that his father did not discover the unauthorized Kryptonian roaming around the city.

Damian did not attempt to send Jon away, knowing that any such effort would be in vain. The younger boy was like a boomerang, any attempt to throw him out resulted in him curving right back around.

Instead, Jon had managed to convince Damian to buy him a burger and fries from one of the local Gotham diners. They had visited it once together while in their civilian identities and Jon had absolutely loved it. Now, Jon insisted on patronizing the establishment every time he visited Gotham.

Cue Superboy and Robin, fairly regularly showing up at Josie’s Diner on the corner of Main and Finger. They were well known customers of the restaurant, and they knew all of the staff members by name. The workers no longer got surprised when the two heroes appeared at the diner. The two of them, on Damian’s insistence, never hung around since it was a potential risk to be so exposed. They simply grabbed their food and left, and always paid in cash. (Damian’s cash.)

Damian had started to believe that he simply had an inexplicable weakness to Jon. In his defense, however, Jon was really quite talented at the puppy dog eye maneuver. It was difficult to say no to him when that sorrowful look filled his eyes, and his bottom lip stuck out in a sad pout. Hence, their current position of resting on a rooftop so that Jon could enjoy his meal.

“D, you’ve got to try one of these, these are the _best_ fries I’ve ever eaten,” Jon said, as he attempted to dunk a rather large handful of fries into his small container of ketchup.

“I do not eat fried foods while on patrol,” Damian replied, “Besides, you always say that when you get food from there.”

“Thash becaush they’re the besht fries I’ve ever eaten,” Jon said, his cheeks stuffed with fried potato.

Damian narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Even at seventeen, Jon still sometimes acted like an absolute child.

“Do they not have french fries anywhere in Metropolis? Because you always insist on getting fries when you visit here.”

Jon, who had run out of fries in the container he was holding and was now searching the bag for any spares that had fallen lose, “They don’t make them like this in Metropolis,” he said, his face muffled by the sack.

“I am starting to believe that you only come to visit me in Gotham because you want me to purchase french fries for you,” Damian said.

Jon pulled his face out of the food bag and gave Damian a look as if he were fake offended, “Hey, you are the best french fry hookup a guy could ask for,” he said, grinning.

Damian elbowed Jon in the gut. Jon didn’t even flinch. It’s not as if the attack would have hurt him anyways. It was more to make a point than anything else.

Jon laughed, a full, hearty laugh. It rang like a song out into the empty space. The cold, Gotham air felt warmer with its musical tone.

Damian’s gaze moved from the skyline to Jon’s face. Jon was a bit of a mess, there was a spot of ketchup hanging right under the corner of his lip and his hands had greasy fry residue all over them. Yet in that moment, Jon was…beautiful. The corners of his eyes were wrinkled with mirth and his smile was dazzling. The wind had tousled his dark hair, so it was rather untidy, but it was set just perfectly so that a curl fell right in the middle of his forehead. The moonlight reflected in his deep blue eyes illuminated the darkness of the night. He was dazzling. Damian was struck with the odd desire to paint this moment, so he could immortalize it forever.

“D? Did you hear me?” Jon’s concerned tone cut through Damian’s stupor.

Damian shook his head, “Could you repeat yourself one more time?”

A look of confusion briefly flashed across Jon’s face but he shook it off, “I said that I heard some sirens a few miles away, want to go check them out?”

“Yes, I believe we should,” Damian said.

Jon set all of the trash from his meal into the sack that it had come in and was about to fly away to find a trash can when Damian grabbed his arm to stop him. Jon looked at him, puzzled.

“You have something…” Damian trailed off as he pointed to the corner of his own mouth, gesturing to Jon that the Kryptonian still had a drop of ketchup on his face.

“Oh, thanks,” Jon said, swiping a finger along the wrong corner of his mouth. He then turned to face Damian, “Did I get it?”

“No, here.” Before Damian had even considered his actions, he found himself using the side of his thumb to clear away the offending condiment.

Jon’s eyes grew wide and he blinked rapidly multiple times in shock. Damian suddenly realized what he had done and pulled back quickly. A nearly imperceptible shiver slid down Jon’s spine and Jon brought a finger up to where Damian’s had been only a moment prior.

“I apologize,” Damian said earnestly, “That was out of line.”

Jon shook his head, still looking a bit dazed, “No, no it’s okay.”

Damian stood up, “We should be on our way.”

Jon nodded as he slowly rose as well, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Jon started flying towards the sirens that he had heard earlier, and Damian followed below on his motorcycle. On the way over, Damian thought about what had just happened. He had no idea what had come over him and caused him to act in such a manner. It was unbecoming.

Perhaps it was related to his ongoing weakness to one Jonathan Kent? Perhaps it was time that he try to determine the cause of such weakness, so that it could be rectified.

* * *

After that night, these moments of weakness began occurring more and more frequently. The space between them went from years, to months, to weeks, until it was occurring almost every time that Damian interacted with Jon.

He still was unsure of the cause of such weakness. Something was causing him to not think clearly while in proximity to his friend. Perhaps it had something to do with Jon’s Kryptonian heritage? It could be some sort of power that even Jon was unaware that he had. If it was an ability, it was only growing stronger as Jon aged. In the past year since the ketchup incident, Damian had tracked over forty occurrences.

Damian had tried to discuss his predicament with Richard, but the older man had just laughed when Damian had described his symptoms.

Damian had insisted that the situation was not in any way amusing. Any sort of weakness out in the field could lead to potentially fatal results. He had no room to be distracted in battle. Grayson had apologized for his laughter and explained that he believed what Damian was experiencing was merely a “crush.”

Impossible. Damian had spent his entire life believing that he was incapable of any sort of romantic love. He had seen what it had done to his mother. It was highly discouraged in the League, due to the potential liability. Love was a luxury not afforded to him.

It had to be something else.

Whatever it was, Damian needed to determine it very soon. He was having to take steps to avoid Jon, especially out in the field. There were only so many times that he could refuse Jon’s proposals to patrol together before Jon became suspicious or worse, hurt from the rejection.

Eventually, Damian did have to acquiesce one patrol with Jon, due to the intense power of Jon’s puppy dog face once again. Despite the fact that it went against all of his better judgement, he simply could not say no to him.

That weakness is what led them to their current predicament. Which was both of them dangling each by their own rope attached to a single foot over a vat of bubbling acid on the stage of a grand theater in Metropolis. Damian had actually attended a ballet performance at this very theater before, however, in that situation he was not hanging twenty feet from his death. The two heroes had been blindsided by some goons who possessed kryptonite and woke up in this dilemma. The ropes were attached to the catwalks of the stage above them.

The rope tied around Jon’s foot had the soft telltale green glow of kryptonite emanating from it, indicating that Jon would not be able to free them using his abilities. The glow was muted, however, implying that the rope was not pure kryptonite, but rather likely infused with kryptonite in the fibers.

“Acid, that is so cliche,” Jon complained, softly groaning from the pain of the kryptonite exposure.

Damian simply grunted in response. His toolbelt had been taken from him, so he was trying to reach the rope. Every other tool he had hidden on his uniform was mainly designed for either picking locks or cutting things, so that would not do him any good in this situation. His only hope was to untie the knot and manage to grab onto the rope in the process.

“How did these guys manage to get kryptonite anyways? They don’t seem like the type,” Jon crossed his arms. Damian assumed that Jon was just trying to distract himself from his own pain.

“Perhaps they were expecting you or your father to show, this is Metropolis after all,” Damian said, straining as he struggled with the rope.

“Still, I thought kryptonite… _ack_ …was harder to get,” Jon said, grinding his teeth as the kryptonite continued to hurt him.

Damian could feel the knot at his foot loosening, so he steeled himself to grab the rope with his hand to avoid falling to his death. As the tie came undone, Damian grasped the end of the rope and began pulling himself upwards. The rope was tied to a catwalk about eight feet above, but Damian would not exactly be worthy of his title as “son of Batman and Talia al Ghul” if he could not handle a simple rope climb.

Jon’s eyes were wide, “You managed to get out of that?”

Damian scoffed, “I could do this as a child.”

Damian kept climbing upwards when he noticed a strange look on Jon’s face. At first, he was concerned that the kryptonite exposure was starting to get to Jon, but it wasn’t a look of pain or potential impending loss of consciousness. It was a look that Damian could only describe as dreamy, as if Jon was thinking deeply about something.

Of course, looks on Jon’s face were the least of Damian’s concerns right now, so he did not dwell on it. His main focus was reaching the top of the catwalk.

Damian clawed himself up the rope inch by inch until he reached the top. He pulled himself up and onto the catwalk, glancing left and right for potential adversaries. Seeing none, he made his way over to the rope holding Jon.

“Hey, I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but I’d really like to not be hanging from a kryptonite rope anymore,” Jon said from below.

“Working on it,” Damian said, grunting as he strained to reach one of the stage ropes attached to a pulley system. Jon would be too heavy for Damian to pull up on his own, but if he attached Jon’s rope to one of the ropes attached to the pulley system with a sandbag, it might be manageable. The sandbag would counteract some of Jon’s weight, making it easier to pull him upwards.

Damian’s plan worked like a charm, and soon enough he had Jon up on the catwalk with him, working to untie the rope that was bound around the younger’s foot.

Once Damian had removed the rope from Jon’s ankle, he tossed it into the vat of acid below, letting it be burned away with a satisfying sizzle. He could see the relief beginning to flood Jon’s face as the effects of the kryptonite exposure began wearing off. Jon did have a nasty looking burn on his leg where the rope had been tied, but he would recover once they could get out of the theater and get some sunlight into his system.

Damian supported Jon as they worked their way off of the catwalk and helped him down the ladder. He could tell that Jon’s strength was returning, but his progress was slow. He needed some sun.

Fortunately for them, the goons that had captured them had departed previously, stating that they would be leaving the two heroes to die, their corpses to be found by the audience of the next show. Unfortunately for their captors, they had completely underestimated Damian’s abilities.

The two boys slowly made their way out of the theater. Damian swung the external door open in the back of the stage and essentially pushed Jon outside. Fortunately for them, the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. They had been unconscious for a while after all, and now the dawn was breaking. Jon would get his strength back soon and be able to fly them far away from there.

The two of them kept moving on the ground level for a few minutes until Jon announced that he felt ready to fly. It took a couple of tries, but eventually they were in the air and able to get safely miles away from the theater.

Seeing Jon struggle like this, left a knot in Damian’s stomach. His weakness had caused his friend to get hurt. He knew it was dangerous for the two of them to operate together in the field and he knew that his judgement was compromised, yet he let Jon work with him anyways. All of this was his fault. His mistake.

Jon interrupted Damian’s train of thought by requesting a break on a nearby rooftop. Damian nodded and Jon set him down gently on the surface before floating down behind him. Jon took a seat and rolled up his pant leg so that his injured ankle could be exposed to the sunlight.

A loud _clatter_ echoed on the rooftop as Damian kicked a stack of wooden boards out of frustration. Jon turned, confused by Damian’s sudden outburst.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked, puzzled.

“This was all my fault,” Damian said, “You were hurt, and it was all my fault.”

Jon raised an eyebrow, “How was this your fault? You’re not the one who tied me up with a kryptonite laced rope.”

Damian shook his head, “No, but it is my fault that I let you patrol with me, despite knowing that I am compromised around you.”

“Compromised?” Jon questioned.

Damian inhaled sharply. He had made a mistake; he had not meant to mention that part to Jon. Again, there was something about Jon that made him weak, made him lose his senses and his better judgement. Until he could figure out the exact nature of this affliction, it wasn’t safe for Damian to be around Jon.

He did not want to tell Jon the truth, but perhaps the truth would encourage Jon to keep his distance, at least until Damian found a remedy. Surely, Jon would understand the potential danger, especially after what had just occurred.

“I have been noticing…” Damian said, slowly, “…that within the past year, I have become increasingly compromised around you. It is a weakness that I am attempting to rectify, but in the meantime, it is too dangerous for the two of us to operate in the field together.”

“Uh huh,” Jon said, his eyebrows knitting as he took in Damian’s statement, “And what exactly do you mean by weakness?”

“I mean that I have become increasingly distracted by you,” Damian explained, “And I have been losing my common sense and better judgement when I am around you. That is why it is too dangerous for us to operate together. I need to have my wits about me to work in the field.”

Jon’s mouth quirked into a soft smile. “Is that so?” he said, his knowing tone indicating that he understood something that Damian did not yet know. He stood up and began walking towards Damian, his pant leg still half rolled up.

“Kent, if you know something that I do not, you better inform me immediately,” Damian stated.

“You’re distracted by me, huh?” Jon smirked, “What is it, my dashing good looks?”

“This is no joking matter,” Damian said matter-of-factly, “It is a liability.”

Jon continued to slowly move closer to Damian. “Do you really not understand what this is?” Jon asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Is it some sort of Kryptonian power that I am unaware of?” Damian asked.

Jon grabbed one of Damian’s wrists, rolling it over so that Damian’s palm was facing upwards. Jon was probably the only person in the world who could get away with such a maneuver, but it caught Damian so off guard that he didn’t know how to react.

“It’s nothing Kryptonian,” Jon said, running a finger down the palm of Damian’s hand as Jon’s other hand still held Damian by the wrist.

“What is it then?” Damian questioned, an unfamiliar heat starting to rise in his cheeks. Was it the proximity to Jon that was triggering this abnormal reaction?

“Well, it sounds to me like you have a crush…on me,” Jon giggled as a grin stretch across his face.

Damian waved his free hand dismissively, “I have already discussed that possibility with Grayson, and we have ruled it out.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, _I_ ruled it out,” Damian clarified, “It does not make sense.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the explanation you’re looking for D,” Jon replied, “It would explain it all.”

Jon was staring intently at Damian, and for the first time since Damian had met the Kryptonian, Damian could not get a read on Jon. The younger boy tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, and he was always very open with his emotions. So, for Damian to not be able interpret a single aspect of the look on his friend’s face, it was unnerving.

“The only thing I do not understand is why I lose my rationality around you,” Damian said, looking to the side to avoid Jon’s gaze, “It is as if _you_ are my kryptonite. You are my weakness, and I do not understand why.”

Jon smiled as he used a hand to gently caress the side of Damian’s face and turn it so that Damian was facing him once more, “It’s not weakness, D.”

Damian’s eyes fell on Jon’s lips, but he brought them back up to meet Jon’s gaze quickly. He hadn’t meant to be so overt, so he was hoping the younger boy had not noticed. But of course, Jon was a Super, so he did in fact notice. Jon smirked and pulled Damian closer with a hand on the small of Damian’s back.

“It’s love,” Jon grinned like an idiot before closing his eyes and leaning forward to press his lips to Damian’s.

For the first moment, Damian froze up in shock. His best friend was kissing him. His best friend was _kissing_ him, and his brain simply could not process it. Then, he finally melted into the kiss, every repressed emotion fighting its way out to the surface and being said through actions. Damian hadn’t realized what he had been holding in, and this kiss felt like the first breath of fresh air in an eternity of holding his breath. His fingers found Jon’s dark curls, and his other arm found Jon’s waist. Jon’s hand was still around the small of Damian’s back, but his other came up to gently hold the side of Damian’s face. Damian’s heart felt like it was racing a mile a minute, but it wasn’t with fear. It was excitement and the relief of no longer stifling the emotions that he hadn’t even previously realized he had been holding in for years.

When they parted, Jon was once again grinning like an idiot.

“I’ve wanted to do that for _soooooo_ long you have no idea D,” Jon said, as he caught exhilarated breaths.

Damian did not know what to say, the air from his lungs still releasing in soft pants from the kiss. He was beginning to understand everything. Grayson had been right. This “weakness” that he was experiencing was romantic emotions for Jon.

He really was in love with his best friend. He had been, for a while now. He simply hadn’t realized. Richard was never going to let him hear the end of this.

“I think I did too, I only did not realize it until now,” Damian said, keeping his arm hooked around Jon’s waist.

Jon replied with a quick, reassuring peck on Damian’s cheek.

“You’re not my weakness, Jon,” Damian continued, “You are my greatest strength.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time ever writing Damijon so I hope I did them justice. I just had this idea pop in my head and I couldn’t progress on my longer Timkon fic that I’m working on until I got this out.
> 
> If Damian seemed out of character at all it’s probably because I was projecting lmao but that’s what happens when you write a fic like this when it’s 3 am and you’re depressed ahaha. I actually finished this at 4:15 am last night so ayooooo. I always get either sad boy hours or anxiety boi hours when I’m still awake this late.
> 
> Anyways, personal problems aside, find me on Tumblr or Twitter @scarletbirbs for both, but I am way more active on Tumblr. Come scream at me there.


End file.
